


The Xenomorality Hypothesis, Revisited

by MaskoftheRay



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Atheist Character, Batman fundamentally misunderstands Superman, Bruce Wayne Angst, Bruce Wayne Has Issues, Bruce Wayne Has Mental Health Issues, Bruce Wayne Whump, Canon-Typical Violence, Cynical Bruce Wayne, Developing Relationship, Diana is a saint, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fix-It of Sorts, God-like character, Heavy Angst, Honesty, Hopeful Ending, I take liberties with the canon timeline, M/M, Major Character Injury, Much-needed clarifying discussions, POV Bruce Wayne, Philosophy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, TW: Blood, What-If, and Superman fundamentally misunderstands Batman, at first, tw: mental health issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 22:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21144386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskoftheRay/pseuds/MaskoftheRay
Summary: “If Luthor is right about anything, it is that no being is both all-powerful and all-good.”Bruce doesn’t believe in God, but some people have started idolizing Superman as one, and humanity has a bad track-record with whom they choose to deify. If Superman is all-powerful, then he cannot be all-good. Besides, it is inherentlyimpossiblefor any being to be all-good. Therefore, Bruce knows, even if the alien is good, he can still be corrupted. So Batman decides to do something about it.But what happens when the alien threat he thought he was facing is not so threatening after all? What happens when the righteous path is no longer so clear? What ifnothingis all-powerful,orall-good— but Superman istryinganyway?





	The Xenomorality Hypothesis, Revisited

**Author's Note:**

> “No one laughs at God in a hospital  
No one laughs at God in a war  
No one’s laughing at God  
When they’ve lost all they’ve got and they don’t know what for”  
— “Laughing With,” Regina Spektor

Bruce was never religious. His father had been a devout Atheist, and his mother a non-practicing Jew. He himself was raised without belief, although there had always been the shadow of a possibility that he would one day choose to believe in God. Or a Higher Power. Or something. That possibility, of course, had died with his parents.

Ever since he was eight years old, Bruce has known that there is no God.

There is no God, and anyone who thinks otherwise is either willfully fooling themselves, or has been so thoroughly indoctrinated from childhood that they can see the world no other way. And many humans are fools— that is why there are different religions. And many other humans are _violent _fools, and that is why there are _wars_ over religion; each side claiming that they have the One True _Faith_. But where is the proof that any of them are right? There is none.

_That_, Bruce muses, _is the genius of ‘faith.’ It needs no **evidence** to burn strong inside a person— someone could go on fooling themselves for a life-time_. He, of course, is a man of science and reason— a detective. He tries to be empirical in all things, and he has never doubted his methods.

°°°

Bruce does not need a God to tell him what his impact on the world is; he need merely look at the three tombstones in the Manor’s yard to see it.

°°°

If Luthor is right about anything, it is that no being is both all-powerful and all-good.

Bruce doesn’t give credence to the rest of the man’s unhinged prophesizing— it’s all pseudo-philosophic bullshit anyway— but he agrees that Superman is not all-good. It is this juxtaposition that worries Batman the most. Since there is no God, Bruce is sure as hell that the alien isn’t one either.

°°°

Superman is an _un_natural disaster waiting to happen.

He acts like an all-good God, and humans, who have a long history of being fools _especially _in regard to religion and ‘faith,’ believe in him. Humanity wants a savior, wants someone who is all-powerful to come and sweep away their problems, wants the miracles, the wine from water, the fish, _everything_. Humanity _wants _a Superman. And since humanity wants something all-powerful, they cannot have something all-good.

The <strike>man</strike> being is alive, Bruce knows that much— it’s an empirical fact because Batman can _see _the impact that he has on the world— and if Bruce has a gravestone, then the alien has a _cemetery_. Since the alien is alive then he (it?) can _die _because nothing alive is all-powerful. Nothing _alive _is God, because God is intangible, and does not exist. Therefore, because the alien is alive, tangible, and _not _all-powerful, he is not a God. Even if he acts like one.

“But if he is not all-powerful, then why can’t he be all-good, Master Wayne?” Alfred asks.

°°°

Superman seems to _try_ to be good, Bruce admits reluctantly. He saves cats and babies and airplanes. But he also _crashes_ into occupied buildings and causes things like the Black Zero event. Empirically, that is not _good_. Neither is murder. And there is at least one _confirmed _case of Superman killing.

_Trying _to be good, Bruce knows, is not enough. He has _tried_ to be good, and has concluded, after twenty years of _trying_, that either one is good, or one is _not_. Bruce is not. And in a lapsarian world (there is nothing _post_ about it), _no one_ is good. There are those that come close, it’s true, but nothing is _all_-good.

Additionally, because there is no God, there is nothing powerful enough to _make_ things be all-good. Therefore, anything powerful that claims to be all-good is _not_. Therefore, anything (or one) claiming to be a savior should not be trusted. Therefore, Superman is dangerous. A threat. And Batman has dealt with _clowns in suits_ for twenty years, and plenty of other threats too.

°°°

Bruce decides that the Kryptonian needs to be dealt with.

°°°

Nairomi happens, and Bruce is not surprised.

The U.S. Capitol is bombed during the hearing on metahumans (Superman). This _is_ unexpected.

Batman works with a kind of grim-tirelessness towards his goal. Even Alfred’s words no longer deter him.

°°°

The first time he meets Clark Kent, Bruce comes away from the interaction feeling jittery. There is just something about the man that rubs him the wrong way— only, Bruce has no _evidence _as to why this is, and it bothers him. After all, it’s a rare person who _likes _Bruce Wayne, and they don’t often maintain that opinion for very long.

He worries at his snap-judgement, and frequently finds his thoughts wandering to the glasses-wearing reporter the whole week after Luthor’s gala. _There’s just something about him_, Bruce muses again. He tries to put his finger on the unsettlement of his experience, but can’t.

He glances distractedly out of his W.E. office window at the miniaturized activity of Gotham’s citizens below. _There’s also the matter of his thief to deal with_, Bruce reminds himself. But despite that (pressing) concern, and his increasing worry over Luthor’s activities, he can’t stop poking at why Clark goddamned Kent is so intriguing to his psyche.

°°°

The _White Portuguese _is a ship. It’s a ship that is docking tonight in Gotham, with some (_a lot_) of Luthor’s illicit xenomaterial aboard. Bruce very much intends to steal it; there are _some _benefits to not being good. But if he is to do so, he’ll have to be patient, and be ready to move quickly when the time is ripe.

°°°

When the alien appears, Bruce isn’t surprised.

°°°

Pain is something that Bruce— Batman— is used to. But he still feels dazed when his face hits the tumbler’s steering wheel, and only the shock of a _very broken nose_ and _also broken arm _keep him from shouting out. Bruce— really _the tumbler_— has just been _body-slammed by the alien_. True, he has the armor, and _always_ wears a seatbelt (no matter how many suicidal musings he may be having that day) but those are nothing compared to the strength of a being who can _lift (or **destroy**) a building_.

As the tumbler’s roof is slowly torn off— with a great, ear-splitting _shriek_— Batman’s mildly-concussed eyes try to focus on the blurry red-and-blue form of Superman. He growls, and sets about attempting to free his broken arm from where it’s caught between the now-crumpled dash and deformed steering wheel.

The alien disappears momentarily, the tumbler’s roof in hand. Bruce finally pulls his arm free. In the distance, he hears a vague banging sound— the torn-off roof being destroyed further, probably. With his slightly-trembling right hand, Batman unbuckles himself, and stumbles out of the car. The alien, for some reason (a display of strength, of _superiority_) lets him.

Bruce squints up at Superman, and tries to ignore the uncomfortable wet throbbing that is his nose, the warmth of blood dripping from it, and the tingling zaps of pain coming from his left forearm. _The alien comes first_. Bruce grits his teeth, and sourly regrets that he hadn’t gotten more of the xenomaterial; he has only his small collection in the cave. The silence swells as the alien continues to hover ten feet in the air above Bruce.

Blood runs smoothly down his face, into his mouth, and Bruce spits. Superman winces. Bruce offers a sardonic, bloody smile which makes the alien sigh softly. He drops rapidly to the ground, so that his cape seems to lag in the air behind him, for a moment, as if it’s forgotten the laws of physics. Then he walks over to Bruce.

Batman steps back, and has to grab onto the tumbler’s— where the tumbler’s roof _should_ _be_— to keep his footing. For a moment, his vision swirls, and Superman’s form becomes nothing but an impressionistic blob of color. He blinks, and the alien comes into somewhat sharper focus. Batman cautiously releases his hold on the car, wipes his face, and tenses.

°°°

Superman stops about a foot away from Batman. For a moment, they merely observe each other— two dominant predators, of different species, trying to stake a territorial claim. After a bit, Superman shakes his head, and mutters, “Lead. Unbelievable.” If Bruce’s cowl didn’t have hearing enhancement he wouldn’t have caught it.

The alien sounds… not amused, no. But… not as _angry _as Bruce would have expected either. It is confusing. He’ll have to think more about it when he’s not concussed. Bruce blinks. Errantly, he wipes his nose again. Superman watches, and makes an almost _pained _noise. Abruptly, he is reaching for Batman, and Bruce snarls.

Superman sighs, and his eyes narrow. _They’re blue, such a light, unique blue_. The small factoid startles Bruce, because it is so irrelevant, and he needs to focus. Focus, because the alien takes another step toward him and Bruce tenses more, and he feels his heartbeat against the Kevlar, in the blood that pulses more rapidly from his nose, from the beat of pain in his arm, and— he _is not _prepared for this.

What force could possibly contain a Superman?

°°°

The alien finally speaks. Bruce is startled, because in his intent focus, noticing things like the passage of time has become unimportant. But it _has_ been a while since any words have been spoken. “You’re hurt,” he says.

Bruce growls. “So?” he challenges. _Isn’t that what you wanted? Isn’t that why you came here— to intimidate the Bat into stopping? _The alien’s blue eyes widen. He looks surprised.

“But- but you’re human.”

Bruce snarls, “I’m still strong enough to hurt you.”

Superman blinks. He looks confused. It’s a very _human _expression on him. Bruce frowns. “Why? Why do you want to?”

“Because you’re not a god, and you are_ **not** all-good_,” Bruce growls fiercely. The alien’s eyes narrow. He takes another step closer; if Batman tenses anymore, he’ll pull something.

“But you aren’t either! At least I don’t BRAND PEOPLE!” Superman exclaims. He stalks forward again. Bruce swallows. _Superman is slightly shorter than he is_.

Bruce lets out a caustic laugh. “At least _I _don’t destroy cities!” A taut, trip-wire silence falls between them. Superman’s gaze is red-tinged for a moment. He looks _angry_— Bruce bristles.

“What’s to stop me from taking you in right now?” the Kryptonian asks quietly. “Give me one goddamned good reason, Batman.”

Bruce’s stomach drops. He grits his teeth. The alien slowly floats up. One of his eyebrows is slightly raised, and he folds his arms, like an impatient parent waiting to hear their rule-breaking _child’s _excuses. Batman seethes. “Because I _know who you are_.”

°°°

Superman hits the ground so hard the worn cement cracks. He stands there a moment, looking like a statue. “What,” he says softly. Bruce’s mind spirals. _Why did he say **that** why did he say that of all things? He doesn’t even know the man’s identity_. At his silence, Superman strides forward; in a moment, he’ll reach Bruce.

Batman thinks, harder than he ever has before, and is struck by a thunderclap. _Blue eyes. Righteous attitude. Shorter than him. Black hair. White teeth. _“Clark. Clark Kent,” he says, half-astounded at the name. _It can’t possibly be true, and Bruce has just gotten himself killed_. But, miracle of miracles, the alien looks just as astounded as Bruce. He stops walking.

Superman stares sharply at Batman and asks, “How did you find out?”

Bruce is silent for a moment, and he feels like he needs to sit down. The feeling is only slightly caused by physical duress. _Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable. Clark Kent is the alien— the alien is Clark Kent. Superman. _Bruce feels dizzy.

The last thing he thinks before passing out is:_ Oh. Maybe it was the shock after all_.

°°°

Bruce wakes up and realizes that he’s lying on the ground. He’s still at the docks, next to the tumbler, so he must not have been out for too long. And he’s not actually _entirely _on the ground either, because Superman’s got his head supported across his thighs— he’s sort-of kneeling, sort-of sitting behind Bruce. Bruce blinks, feeling a strong _surge _of adrenaline, because the other thing he notices is this: the cowl is no longer covering his head.

And of course not— it’s not like a couple hundred volts or knockout gas would really be able to _stop _the alien, right?

°°°

Bruce sits up, and shoves the alien away; _he’s warm, just like a human. Clark. The alien. Is warm_. He tries to stand, but immediately realizes that that’s not going to happen as his vision swims. So instead, Bruce swats away <strike>the alien’s</strike> <strike>Superman’s</strike> <strike>Clark’s</strike> _his _hand, and thumps against the side of his wrecked vehicle. Superman doesn’t move for a moment, apparently deciding to let Bruce adjust, but then he does.

The other man sits next to Batman against his vehicle. Bruce turns his gaze out across the docks to avoid meeting Superman’s eyes. But he can still _feel _the alien’s gaze roving over his face. Absently, Bruce reaches for the cowl, which has been carelessly discarded a few inches away. It sits upended by his feet.

“Your nose,” Superman protests.

Bruce snorts. “I’ve had worse.” He puts the cowl back on.

Superman blinks. He looks confused. “You’re Bruce Wayne,” he says, as if it’s a question. Bruce snorts again— instantly regretting it, as a fresh trickle of blood spatters his face. Superman looks _concerned_. Bruce eases his head back against the tumbler, and closes his eyes behind the cowl. He’s tired.

_Lead_. Batman gets it now. _Lead stops x-rays_.

°°°

They sit there long enough for Bruce’s nose to start clotting. It’s an extremely unpleasant sensation, but no _more _than all the other ones of the night. Bruce shifts minutely, trying to regain a bit of feeling in his cold legs, and grimaces. His arm pulses steady jolts of pain, but if he keeps it still enough it doesn’t hurt as much. Bruce learned long-ago to ignore his pain.

Superman, who has seemingly been content to just sit next to Bruce in silence, shifts subtly. _If he acknowledges him, he’ll have to talk to him_. Bruce sighs, and turns his head slightly. He catches a glimpse of blue, the curl. A hesitant twist of the mouth. Red— the cape. “We need to talk.”

Bruce groans. Superman sits up quickly and is suddenly crouching in front of Batman. Bruce startles slightly, and then feels his cheeks heat. _He’s no damsel in distress_. “That was purely frustration. I’m fine.” Superman subsides. Before Bruce can blink, he’s assumed his earlier position. But he _is _sitting a hair closer to Bruce.

°°°

“I’m sorry about the- the—”

“Tumbler,” Bruce interrupts. He doesn’t want to listen to the alien fumble around for words. He’s got his eyes closed again, head resting against the driver’s door. But he can still sense Superman nod.

“I’m sorry about the tumbler. And your nose. And the arm,” he says quietly.

Bruce sighs. He considers opening his eyes, but he also doesn’t want to look at Superman just now, and he’s… well, not _comfortable_ here, not when his legs are mostly numb, but… fine. Not bad. And after everything else that’s happened tonight, that’s saying something. “Well, I’d say I forgive you, but I don’t,” he murmurs dryly. It comes out half-normal because he speaks so softly. Good.

Superman sighs, and at that Bruce _does_ open his eyes. The other man is looking at him as if he’s a math problem he can’t quite figure out. _What’s the derivative of this encounter? _Bruce asks himself. He barely keeps from snorting. Abruptly, Superman stands. He moves slightly so he’s in front of Bruce and offers a hand. Bruce ignores it, and slowly pushes himself up.

°°°

“Let me take you home,” Superman says firmly. He’s using his ‘hero’ voice, something that mildly irritates Batman. If it had been an hour ago, he might have snapped at the other man. But he’s too tired to do that. Also, the offer is tempting. Probably because the tumbler’s very much out of commission— and Alfred is going to be _pissed _at that— and he’s not feeling great. Still, Bruce hesitates. But… mutually assured destruction; Clark hasn’t killed him yet, so he probably won’t on the trip home (not like he’ll _learn _anything from it either, as everyone already knows where Bruce Wayne lives), and Bruce still knows his civilian identity. He sighs.

“Fine. But make sure to come back for the tumbler. I don’t want the Gotham underworld getting a look at the Bat’s toys.”

°°°

Alfred is _very _surprised when Superman rings the lake house’s doorbell, while holding an arm-full of Bat. In fact, after he opens the door, the butler blinks. He stands there a moment, completely still, and then shakes his head. “My word, Sir. You never cease to amaze me with your ability to be dramatic,” he says, stepping aside. Once they’re across the threshold, Bruce pushes himself out of Clark’s arms, and stalks across the house to the cave entrance. Hovering awkwardly, Clark follows. Alfred trails behind them, still tutting.

°°°

Bruce lets them all into the cave and they proceed down the stairs silently.

Superman stops abruptly, at the base of the stairs, and Alfred shoots him an exasperated look as he suddenly has to weave around an invulnerable alien blockade. Bruce smiles. He leaves the alien to his observations, and heads for the med bay. Alfred swiftly follows. Perhaps, on another night, he would’ve had more _words _for Bruce, but tonight’s different. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to embarrass Batman in front of the alien he’s been trying to kill for upward of a year.

As Alfred helps him start stripping off the armor, a small cough comes from the med bay’s ‘doorway.’ Superman peeks his head in awkwardly. Bruce almost rolls his eyes, but his mood is abruptly lost as Alfred briefly touches a hand to the exposed tip of his nose. Bruce hisses.

°°°

Superman suddenly _shrinks _at the noise and— Bruce can see it. _He’s really Clark Kent_, he thinks, with renewed amazement. Alfred mutters something about “carelessness” and “idiocy” but he’s gentle with the warm washcloth that he dabs at Bruce’s upper lip with. The alien slinks closer, and Bruce actually _does _roll his eyes this time. “If you’re going to lurk, you might as well be useful doing it.”

Alfred gives him a curious look— he still doesn’t know what’s been going on. Bruce twists slightly, and meets his curious (concerned) gaze. “Things have changed,” Bruce says. _I’m no longer gunning for Superman_. 

Alfred raises an eyebrow. “I would have never guessed, Master Batman,” he says sarcastically. Bruce, in answer, removes the cowl. _You were right, old friend. I do have a flair for the dramatic_.

°°°

“Ah… I see,” Alfred mutters. He swiftly glances at Clark, who, naturally, doesn’t look surprised. “And when were you going to tell me about this development, Bruce?” Bruce opens his mouth to respond, but it’s Superman who beats him to it.

“It’s fairly recent— as of tonight, actually… I broke his nose. And his arm,” Clark says. Alfred goes still beside Bruce, and raises one eyebrow; he’s always been overprotective.

“By stopping my vehicle _with your body_,” Bruce amends. Alfred resumes removing Bruce’s armor. Superman winces, and looks as if he’s about to argue, but Alfred steps in.

“I do believe you have x-ray vision? When I get this off, come tell me how bad the break is. If it’s mild, we can set it here,” he says. Then he sets about removing Bruce’s chest plate armor, and gauntlets.

°°°

After the rest of the armor is removed, Alfred checks Bruce’s eyes with a pen light, and doesn’t look _too _displeased by the results, which Bruce takes as a good sign. He then orders Bruce to take a quick shower, which he does eagerly. When Bruce gets out, there’s a pile of soft, clean clothes waiting for him. He towels off his hair and then pads back to the medical cot. Then Alfred asks Superman to x-ray Bruce’s broken arm.

Clark slowly and gently takes the appendage in hand, and asks that Bruce be still. That’s not a problem, as all Bruce can think is: _he’s warm. Skin doesn’t feel any different than any other person’s_. He feels the small tremblings of some mental storm beginning— which he shoves away. Later. When he’s _not _beaten half to hell and exhausted.

The break, Clark says, isn’t serious.

Alfred, when he cautiously offers sedatives, probably isn’t expecting Bruce to agree to take them. But he’s _exhausted_, in a not-insignificant amount of pain, and honestly? Bruce would like for this whole night to just be over. Besides, he has a feeling that Superman isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. And even if he does— he’ll be back later. They _do _need to talk.

Clark says as much, just after Bruce takes the pills. “I’ll be here,” he promises seriously, “when you wake up.” Bruce nods, before sinking back against the pillows and fading out of consciousness.

°°°

Bruce wakes around noon. He silently pads upstairs and sees Superman— Clark Kent— sitting on his couch. The man offers a cautious smile, which Bruce is too out-of-it to return. But he _does _embarrass himself by offering a goofy little wave (which Clark returns). Alfred makes his presence known from the kitchen, and says that he’ll have breakfast waiting for after Bruce gets dressed.

Bruce changes into an equally comfortable outfit and tries (in vain) to smooth down his bed-head. He heads into the kitchen and sits at the island. As Bruce eats breakfast, Clark— who has either eaten elsewhere (or been fed earlier)— makes polite small talk with Alfred. It is, overall, a strange experience.

After Bruce is done, they retreat to the living room. Alfred disappears down into the cave.

°°°

They talk. About Bruce’s concerns. Clark’s. Each offer reasons and justifications, but mostly they exchange backstory and share histories. Clark shares more since he’s not famous in his civilian identity. Bruce discloses, “I’m not actually stupid.” Clark nods solemnly. They keep talking. They talk until things feel _different_— they’ve reached an agreement.

Alfred comes by with tea and sandwiches. Bruce blinks. It’s been three hours.

°°°

After that, Clark swings by the lake house regularly. Sometimes he talks shop with Bruce (although Bruce doesn’t mention Luthor’s actions— he’s handling the investigation _personally_) others he listens as Bruce complains about the banality of society life. Occasionally Clark dishes on a story he’s writing. Surprisingly, Bruce doesn’t actually _hate _the man he’s been trying to kill for the better part of two years.

He feels that earlier mental storm start to spin within him.

°°°

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Clark asks.

Bruce swallows. He looks away. He’s typing case notes at the computer. Clark is leaning against the workshop table behind him, seemingly content just _to_ _be around Bruce_ (which is an odd thought). “I was going to kill you.”

Clark is silent a moment. Then: “I might’ve too. If you hadn’t been injured that night— well, who knows what might’ve happened. _But it didn’t_. That’s what matters.” Bruce, who’s stopped typing, turns around. He watches as Clark runs a hand through his hair, and offers a small smile. Bruce blinks incredulously.

“Want a coffee?” Clark asks.

Bruce, unsure of what else he can say, says, “Yes.” 

°°°

His thief’s name turns out to be Diana.

°°°

She knocks on his front door one morning (a rare day off for Bruce) and Alfred, perplexed, lets her in. He retrieves Bruce from his study. Upon seeing her, Bruce shoots Alfred a questioning look. Diana addresses some of his concerns when she clears her throat, and then tosses _his own flash drive _at him. Bruce, of course, catches it. He recognizes it as the one that was stolen months ago. _How things have changed since then_.

°°°

Diana explains that she’s been watching. She tells Bruce how she’s been in exile for over one hundred years, and only returned once she’d seen that there was _hope _for mankind. This hope, she claims, comes from the small fact that Batman and Superman did not try to kill each other after all. She shows Bruce what she can do— Amazons are _real_, apparently. Then, politely, she requests that he call Superman.

Bruce wants to explain that he doesn’t have the alien _at his beck and call_, but at Diana’s insistent look, he sighs, then acquiesces. “Superman,” he says. “We have a visitor.” Clark is there five minutes later. Bruce is only _a little_ humiliated at Diana’s amused hum, and Alfred’s quirked eyebrow.

Bruce offers introductions while Alfred goes for refreshments. Then Diana reveals her powers to Clark, who turns to give Bruce a look full of child-like wonder— and for the first time in nearly 37 years, Bruce feels _hope_.

°°°

Calmly and discreetly, Batman hands over all the evidence of Luthor’s wrong-doings to one Jim Gordon. He also quietly leaks the documents to Lois Lane. Two days later, Luthor is arrested. Superman regains possession of his ship shortly thereafter— Bruce knows because its abrupt removal from Hero’s Park makes headlines in _The Daily Planet_— and a day after that, there is a rap against the lake house’s office window.

°°°

When Clark comes— unannounced— to visit him in his home office, Bruce isn’t annoyed. He merely lets him in through the large sliding-glass window. When Superman comes by the cave, Bruce (secretly) relishes his company, and the way he always tries to sweet-talk the bats. When Clark Kent asks Bruce Wayne for a quote, Bruce gives it to him (and tones down the ‘Brucie Wayne’ persona).

Alfred comments mysteriously, “Master Clark has been spending more time with you.”

Bruce shrugs. “He’s good company.”

°°°

When Clark kisses him one day— after they’ve finished eating lunch (cooked by Alfred)— on the lake house’s back patio (the one with a lake view), Bruce isn’t surprised. In fact, he kisses him back. Now _that _does surprise him. But not unpleasantly so.

°°°

<strike>Bruce stands stiffly and resolutely in the back of the miniscule Smallville, Kansas graveyard. Despite the location’s size, it is packed with a sea of black-clad mourners. He shakily breathes in the scent of the cool fall air and of fresh grave dirt. The leaves crunch, and he sees Diana, dressed in a respectful black dress. She steps to his side and gently places a comforting hand on his shoulder. _Maybe_, Bruce thinks, _things can’t be all-powerful. But they **can** be all-good_. </strike>

He will never believe in the existence of God, but Bruce has _faith_ now—

With Clark by his side (hopefully _forever_) and Diana’s assistance, they can change things, Bruce knows they can, because he has _hope_. He knows now that he was wrong (he was _wrong for_ _so long_ about so many things), but especially about Superman, about humanity; about the way he viewed the world—

nothing is all-powerful _or _all-good, but that **doesn’t** mean that things can’t get better.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a DC Comics _Instagram_ post about Batman and Superman, wherein it is mentioned that Batman is not afraid of Superman. 
> 
> It wasn’t originally about BvS, but that’s where my brain went, so now you’ve got this. 
> 
> If you are religious, please don’t take offense at this! I respect everyone’s right to believe (or not to believe) in whatever they want :) . 
> 
> I found this [timeline of the DCEU movieverse](https://dccomicsextendeduniverse.fandom.com/wiki/Timeline) to be very helpful while I was writing this! 
> 
> You can watch the actual “all-powerful, all-good” speech from BvS [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuwNhed4ObU). 
> 
> If you want to listen to “Laughing With,” you can do so [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXRzQp7CPnY). 
> 
> *inhales* Ah yes, I do love the sweet, sweet smell of angst in the morning (er, evening)!


End file.
